Page 3 of The Bear’s Mail Order Mate (Bear Creek Forever:Thornberg Vineyard #1)

Kris’s heart stuttered in his chest as he watched Cassia’s eyes flicker with that hesitant spark of hope. Of all the scenarios he could have imagined when Finn “pretended” to post that ad, this—meeting his mate—had never once crossed his mind. That fate would somehow draw her here to the vineyard, and into his life at last, was almost impossible to believe.

Yet here she was. In the flesh.

Here she is, his bear murmured, its deep voice thrumming with barely contained excitement. Our mate.

Kris swallowed the excitement—and the panic—tightening in his throat. He needed to keep calm and figure this out. After all, Cassia was here to apply for a job that did not exist.

Yet, his bear said.

Yet, Kris agreed. But somehow, he needed to create the job, and the restaurant, before his mate learned the truth. Because if she did, she might leave his life as abruptly as she’d entered it.

He glanced around the tasting room, his eyes drifting up to the high wooden rafters before moving on to the casks and crates lining the walls. He drew in a deep breath, inhaling the comforting aroma of fermenting grapes and various spices. This was his domain, his place of refuge. But now it felt charged with the electricity of Cassia’s presence.

Then his eyes rested on Cassia. His mate. His true love.

As he let out a long breath, he offered her a neutral smile, reminding himself to act calm. Which was not exactly easy when his bear was practically doing somersaults inside his mind.

You should be doing somersaults, too, his bear said, unable to hide its excitement. This is our mate!

I know, Kris said. And I’m trying to make her stay.

He took another deep breath, exhaling slowly. “So,” he began, “why don’t I show you what we do here? I mean, where we make the wine before we, uh, chat about the details?”

Cassia nodded, though a trace of uncertainty still clung to her face. “Yes, please. I’d love a tour.” There was a note of relief in her voice. She’d likely been worried by Kris’s initial reaction that the entire “job listing” was a mistake.

It was, his bear said.

I know. You know. But Cassia does not need to know, Kris replied. And he’d be damned if he was going to lose her over a misunderstanding.

Not ever, his bear said.

All I have to do is convince her to stay, Kris told his bear.

I’m sure I could, his bear said. After all, who can resist a big cuddly bear?

If we changed places right now and she saw you, I don’t think ‘big cuddly bear’ is exactly the first thought that would go through our mate’s head, Kris said with a chuckle.

Our mate, his bear said dreamily.

“Shall we?” Kris directed Cassia toward the back of the tasting room. The stones underfoot gave way to smooth concrete where the temperature dropped a few degrees. This was the production area. He flipped a switch, and bright overhead lights illuminated rows of gleaming stainless-steel tanks.

“Impressive,” she said as she looked around the room.

“This is the start of the process,” he said, trying to sound professional. “We ferment the grapes in these tanks after the harvest. Different yeasts, different fermentation times. Even slight changes can influence the flavor.” He paused, casting a glance her way. “You know this already, of course.”

She stepped closer to one of the tanks, running her fingertips lightly over the steel. “I do, but I love hearing different vintners talk about it in their own words. You can learn so much about a vineyard’s character by how the owners handle fermentation.” She offered him a small, genuine smile. “Everyone has their own style.”

Kris’s bear rumbled with approval. She is interested. She cares about the craft.

Of course, she cares, he replied. She’s a sommelier. But she wasn’t just any sommelier. She was their sommelier.

We should tell her, his bear encouraged. Let her know who we are. That she belongs here. To us.

Not yet, Kris insisted. She’ll freak out. He fought the urge to run a hand through his hair again, a telltale sign of his nerves. No, he needed to keep it together.

He cleared his throat. “Let me show you the barrel-aging room. That’s personally my favorite space.”

Damn, you sound like a nerd, his bear complained.

It’s my superpower, Kris said as he led her through a wide door and down a short corridor into a dimly lit room stacked floor to ceiling with oak barrels. The smell was heavenly. A mix of toasted wood, red wine, and a faint hint of the vineyard’s soil. Low lights gave the barrels a warm, golden glow. Cassia inhaled deeply, and her eyes drifted shut, as though savoring every note of the aroma.

“Wow,” she breathed, stepping carefully between the stacked barrels. “This is incredible. It’s bigger than I expected.”

Kris let out a short laugh. “We have very fertile soil here. My brother, Philip, works alongside my parents to enrich the land,” he said, following a step behind her. “Which means we’ve increased our harvests year on year.”

“Is he the one responsible for the ad?” she asked.

“No,” Kris lowered his gaze. “That would be my brother, Finn.”

“How many brothers do you have?” she said, turning to face him.

“Five,” he replied.

“Five.” She nodded slowly. “And do they all work here at the vineyard?”

“No. Just me and Philip. But I’m sure you’ll meet the rest of them sooner or later.” Kris placed his hand on the nearest barrel. He felt a brief pang at the thought of how quickly word would spread among his siblings once they heard about Cassia. He wasn’t ready to share her with them yet. “Some of these barrels have been aging for months, some for years. Each batch is unique. The slightest difference in the grape’s growing conditions can alter the result.”

“I love that about wine,” Cassia said as she moved to stand by his side. “It’s never just science. It’s artistry. Intuition. Heart.” A faint pink blush covered her cheeks, as though she felt self-conscious about showing her passion so openly.

Kris’s heart gave a traitorous little flip. Intuition. Heart. That was exactly it. Wine, for him, was a language. But right now, he was lost for words.

She gets it, his bear growled in delight. Our mate gets us.

“Yeah,” he finally managed, his voice almost a whisper. “Exactly.”

Silence settled over them, broken only by the quiet hum of the cooling system. Kris drew a slow breath, inhaling the sweet oak and fruit-laced air to steady himself. He needed to address the elephant in the room.

The fact that the ad was never supposed to be real, his bear reminded him.

And it was right. The idea of opening a restaurant at the vineyard had come from Uncle Thaddeus, who ran a successful restaurant in Bear Creek. But it remained just that—an idea.

Until now, his bear said. Because if we want Cassia to stay, we might have to make the restaurant a reality.

Oh boy. This is going to take some explaining to our parents, Kris said wryly.

“These barrels are amazing,” Cassia said. “And it must take patience to give the wine time to mature. You must be a patient man.”

You have no idea, his bear said gruffly. We’ve waited a lifetime for our mate to arrive.

Kris parted his lips to speak, but the sight of her peering up at the barrels, that subtle wonder lighting her face, stopped him. Her eyes shone with enthusiasm and a dash of excitement. He couldn’t crush that by telling her this was a mistake. Somehow, he had to make it work. But how?

“I think we need to talk about the job,” he said, gesturing for them to head back toward the tasting area. “I realize there’s some confusion, and I want to clear it up.”

She nodded, lips pressed into a line that betrayed her tension. “All right.”

They walked back to the main tasting room, more open and airy. Kris paused at a small wooden table near a wide picture window overlooking the vines. He motioned for Cassia to sit. She perched on the edge of the chair, her earlier enthusiasm replaced by uncertainty.

Does she think we’ve been toying with her? his bear asked.

Possibly, Kris said. But we’d never be that cruel. Especially not to our mate.

Kris set about grabbing a couple of glasses. Then he pulled one of his favorite bottles from a nearby rack—a classic Thornberg Vineyard Merlot, something approachable yet expressive. Confidence, be confident, his bear told him.

I’m trying, Kris said, forcing a small smile as he popped the cork.

“The best way to see what we do is to taste what we do,” he said, pouring for them both. “This is one of our staple wines, and I’m…proud of it.”

He caught the slight arch of her eyebrow, as though she were still bracing for bad news. Setting the bottle aside, he lifted his own glass, swirling the wine gently.

She followed suit, bringing the glass to her nose. “Mmm,” she hummed, closing her eyes to focus on the bouquet. “Ripe plums, a hint of cedar…there’s a nice chocolatey undertone, too.”

Kris couldn’t help the grin tugging at his mouth. “Exactly. That’s what I love about it. It’s warm but not heavy. Easy to pair.”

She took a sip, and a faint smile curved her lips. When she opened her eyes, they glimmered with a spark of genuine appreciation. “That’s lovely. Smooth, well-rounded. You can taste the care that’s gone into it.”

Kris felt a rush of pride. “Thank you. We do our best.” Their gazes met, and an invisible current of awareness flowed between them. An awareness that said, This could be something .

She definitely senses we share a connection, his bear murmured, excitement in its tone.

Kris cleared his throat, setting the glass down. “Cassia, about that ad…it wasn’t supposed to be posted.” He swallowed when her posture stiffened. “My brother—Finn—was playing a prank. He never meant for it to go online. Ever.”

Her expression faltered, a mix of shock and disappointment crossing her features. “I…see.”

“But,” he pressed on, leaning forward, “the idea behind it isn’t completely off-base. We’ve been talking about opening a small restaurant to showcase our wines—like a tasting menu concept. We want it to be special, something that draws visitors from all over. And for that, we do need a sommelier or someone with a refined palate.” He ran a hand over the table’s smooth wood, a nervous habit. “We just haven’t gotten all the logistics sorted out.”

Her shoulders relaxed a fraction, though her gaze was still guarded. “So, it wasn’t purely a joke? There’s actually a plan to open a restaurant even if it’s just theoretical?”

He nodded. “Absolutely. It’s just…not as far along as the ad suggested. But if you’re serious about wanting to help us, I…I’d love to have you.”

We can’t let her leave, his bear insisted. Make her see the future. Her future, here with us.

Kris inhaled and forced a small chuckle, hoping it didn’t sound too shaky. “Guess you could say the timing’s perfect in a twisted way. Your arrival might be the push we need to finally move from talk to action.” He paused, lips curving into a grin that felt more genuine by the second. “So, how about it? If you’re willing to put up with the chaos of bringing a half-baked idea to life, I’m offering you a trial period.”

She stared at him, her hazel eyes flicking between disbelief and cautious hope. “A trial period,” she echoed.

He nodded, ignoring the anxious flutter in his stomach. “Two weeks. Maybe more, if you’re up for it. We’ll start drafting a menu, pairing wines, and see how it feels. Once we have a solid plan, I can talk to my folks about renovating the old barn. My parents—Nancy and Hugo Thornberg—are all for expanding what we do here, as long as it’s done right.”

Cassia took another sip of wine, seeming to mull over his words. Kris watched her carefully, noticing the faint pinch in her brow as she weighed the risk of trusting him.

Please, his bear pleaded. Say yes. We need you here.

“This is…unusual,” she said finally. “But you know what? I didn’t drive all the way here to give up at the first hiccup. If you’re serious…”

“I am,” Kris said, a bit too quickly. “We need someone with your skill set. The listing might have started as a…comedic advertisement, but the position can be real if we decide to make it so.” His heart pounded, realizing how desperate that sounded, but he pressed on. “I promise, if you stay, you won’t regret it. Let us prove Bear Creek is worth your time.”

She tilted her head, studying his face, then let out a breath she’d clearly been holding. “All right,” she said, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “A trial period. Two weeks, maybe more.”

A surge of triumph shot through Kris’s veins. Yes. He realized he was smiling like a fool, but he didn’t care. “Thank you,” he said simply.